


keep calm and carry a grudge

by Edwardina



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: blindfold_spn, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Hate Sex, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2298203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: So, we all remember Bela's flashback. Everyone else get that she was being abused by daddy? I'd like a little bit of flashback to the abuse in nightmares, while maybe on a job with the Winchesters. Or maybe one catches up to her and witness her nightmare? "Daddy stop" etc. And a little h/c, I'm into you "healing cock that doesn't" or "you probably liked it/deserved it" angry!sex? Bonus if she cries and/or cries out daddy or her father's name while with the Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep calm and carry a grudge

**Author's Note:**

> Written for blindfold_spn and originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/2172.html?thread=2990716#t2990716).
> 
> This is a little outside my comfort zone subject-wise and pairing-wise, but I gave it a try!

_I have to check up on you, Abby. Make sure you're developing into a woman. That way there's no nasty surprises when you start dating boys._

She was nine, and afraid, already one of the taller, lankier girls in her year. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Maybe she would have to go to the doctor. Dad closed his office door behind them. It was the biggest door in the world, so heavy. Daddy's study was like being in church, ground she never tread. She felt like she was in trouble.

_Be a good girl for Daddy, now, Abby._

After that he started coming to her room when he wanted to check up on her.

_Daddy, don't. Daddy, that hurts. Daddy, stop..._

_Abby, quiet. Right now._

Once, she locked her door, and the next morning he paddled her for what felt like an hour, ignoring her sobs and pleas and the apologies he made her say over and over. She missed the next day of school to lie on her stomach in bed, her mother sighing ( _I just don't know what's gotten into you, Abby_ ), Daddy looking in on her and easing himself into the room. _I hope you've learned your lesson, Abigail._

She had.

After that, she never locked the door again, not for years, and tried to go over to friends' on the weekends, but on school nights there was nowhere she could go and nowhere she could hide if she didn't want to get paddled until her skin broke.

She let her father lay her down and open up her blouse, thumb her nipples, rub her through her knickers and put his fingers in her. _You're not letting boys do this to you, are you, Abby? Only Daddy. You know I'll feel it if you let a boy touch you. If you let any boy put his nasty prick in you, Daddy will know. If you're a slut, I'll find out, Abby._

And Daddy never stopped opening her door.

Not until the accident.

"Bela."

She sits straight up, forgetting herself, forgetting it's the middle of the night and she's squatting in a wretched, moldy-smelling old house with Dean and Sam Winchester. Her negligee is sticking to her skin. It's freezing, but she's drenched with sweat.

"What is it," she asks like a robot, feeling a twist of fear. Even though her parents have been dead for years, sometimes she wakes with the undeniable feeling that her father is beside her, about to --

"Nightmare?"

It's Dean. He's just a silhouette in the cracked door frame.

"Yes," Bela clips. "I dreamt you were in my room in the middle of the night, asking me personal questions. Now get out."

"Really? So you call me 'Daddy' in your dreams, huh?" Dean asks dryly, and shines a torch up at his own face like some kid telling ghost stories. It lights up a mean smile, but oh, he's nothing as mean or smug or smart as he thinks. He's nothing compared to her. Powerless to hurt her. All men are.

Bela eases herself back onto her elbows upon the mattress. It's not the silk sheets she's accustomed to indulging herself with (she only has so much time left, why not), just cheap papery sheets she bade Sam to get for her from the nearest Wal-mart so she wouldn't have to sleep with the revolting, musty old mattress itself touching her skin. She gets a flash of light in her eye as Dean aims the beam at her, sitting irritatingly on her damp face for a moment before trailing down her neck and cleavage. If the material is as damp and clingy as it feels, he can probably see right through it, and even though her skin is crawling and her heart pounding unpleasantly, something deeper takes hold of her, then. It's that sense of _freedom_ , of owning her own body after years of fearing what it had brought her and trying to pretend it wasn't part of her at all. She can slut around all she likes, now. Her father's roasting in Hell where be belongs, and she's here, now, with Dean Winchester.

"Getting an eyeful, are you?" she asks Dean archly.

The light pauses, then comes nearer, the floorboards creaking with Dean's steps.

"Got no shame, do you, Bela?" Dean returns, sounding just disgusted enough to prickle her.

"Oh, like you have so much shame?"

"I got more than you."

"Please. You're pathetic. At least I can live in this world alone. It's common knowledge that you can't even manage to do that."

"Lucky you like livin' alone, 'cause I don't know a single person who could stand to be around you, you lying, stealing bitch."

"Projecting your issues onto me much, darling?"

"You make me sick."

"Likewise."

A heated moment ticks by, and then the torch goes off, leaving nothing but darkness and squares of starlight on the floor, marred by cracks in the panels of the window.

Dean's on her a moment later -- _on_ her, having grabbed and thrown the sheet from her body -- and pinning her down ruthlessly by the hips and the weight and broadness of his chest. He's crushing her breasts and pinning her wrists up by her head, and for a second, Bela thinks he's going to choke her, rape her, and her breath catches fearfully in her throat. Still, she's oddly disconnected, because there's no way Dean can touch her and wreck her life. It's already been wrecked. And there's something about him. They're the same thing cut from different cloth. She can't fear that. She can only respond when Dean kisses her, hard and angry, with his muscles all coiled with electric tension.

He bites his way down Bela's throat; she gasps. He acts like he might sink his teeth into her tit, into her nipple, but he doesn't -- he just bites with the slightest edge of threat and tugs with his mouth and sucks at her through her negligee.

"Damn," she hisses, struggling and just getting turned on even further feeling herself rubbing against him.

"How's that, Bela?" Dean demands in a rough whisper. "Daddy get you wet for him like that?"

It's horrifying, what he's saying, but he has no idea, she knows -- this is just their mutual weak spot, a barb he's trying to sink in while he's got her.

"Would you like it if he did?" she purrs back. "That get you off, Dean? Daddy fucking his little girl with Sammy asleep downstairs, none the wiser?"

Dean pauses again, heavy heated breaths in Bela's face (she can smell the Jack Daniels he was downing earlier), and she can definitely feel by the swell of his cock in his jeans, hot against her bare thigh, that it does.

"Fuck," he finally breathes, and she doesn't know how to take it until she feels him fumbling between them at his fly. Her belly does a dark flip-flop and she throbs inside. Angry sex it is. Dean is going to fuck her, fill that hole in her without even knowing she needs it, and she can already tell, just like how she knows exactly who he is and what buttons to press, he's going to fill it like no one else has ever been able to.

The mattress coils don't even have life left in them to groan as they both struggle, Bela to get her panties off and Dean to get his jeans and whatever he's wearing under them down, and then he's fucking into her, easy and perfect, one thrust and he's sheathed to the hilt in her cunt. Her hymen, the wretched barrier her father would check for, is long, long gone. For a second, he just feels her out, how it is in her, then rocks into her punishingly, hard and full and deep thrusts she can feel jamming into her cervix.

She's silent except for the wet juicy slide of her cunt along Dean's cock, just breathing viciously, but he feels it when she comes, fucks her through it, then changes tack and grabs her by the hair.

"Yeah, c'mon. Daddy trained you good, didn't he."

"Better than your daddy trained you," Bela spits back.

Dean batters her, picking up speed like a fright train until Bela can't help it, "oh god" coming out of her mouth over and over, hot tears rolling their way down her face and into her hair.

"Fucking come on it," Dean demands, "Daddy fuckin' you like a slut --"

Bela's legs tense and lock around Dean's rutting hips.

"Daddy," she gasps.

" _Yeah._ Say it."

"Daddy."

"Say it --"

"Daddy."

Bela's coming, rigid, explosive, Dean filling her up with cock huger and deeper than her father, driving it all away and yet drowning her in it too, the part of her that loved her daddy, once when she was little. It shoots out of her somehow, wetting Dean down with the power of it and making her quake uncontrollably on the mattress, and Dean groans, sliding his cock back into her after a moment. She hadn't even realized he'd slipped out. He screws her hard again, finding that cruel rhythm and working her back up into it too, but then he stops shock-still and comes, huffing.

Everything spirals down, and Dean pulls out wetly and collapses beside her, but now the wall in Bela is cracked. The girl she buried almost ten years ago is a ghost inside her, haunting her. It takes her a minute to screw up the courage to come back into herself.

"Well, that was supremely fucked up," she comments coolly. "Next time we have angry sex, I'll let _you_ call me 'Daddy'."

"Man, you are an even nastier piece of work than I thought," Dean responds, though it almost sounds like a compliment in his fucked-out voice.

"Likewise," snaps Bela.


End file.
